by Franka J. Haddley Nov 6, 2020 1995 views

I Almost Forgot Why I Became a Writer in The First Place

You and I – we both have our ‘why,’ our reason why we started this or that path in our life. But the longer we are on the path, the harder it gets to remember the reason that brought us here.

It is in human nature to achieve something only to discount it and start wanting another achievement. And even the most passionate of us sooner or later get sucked into the whirlpool of this reality.

It is sad, but it is true.

And my story is not different. For quite some time, I kept a blind eye to what was really happening.

Of course, I knew that being a writer meant more than just a random, temporary hobby to me.

I knew it was one of the most important parts of my life. And I knew that I loved doing it.

Writing has been always my little heaven. Plotting became instinctual just as breathing air is. And though for many, many years I had no one to share this little heaven of mine with, I never complained or regretted the time I spent in the empty room, writing.

Last year, I joined writing community and for the first time for almost ten years of writing, I felt home. I met so many amazing people all over the world. I was supported and warmly welcomed by the world of my dream – by the world where everyone shared the same dream of becoming an author.

But the actual process of my writing drastically changed

If a few years ago, I could easily finish the first draft of a full length novel for two months, now even a whole year was not enough.

I could not stop criticizing each chapter, deleting it and rewriting it for months. I would shamelessly sabotage my own work, I would diminish its meaning and purpose, I would keep repeating ‘my writing sucks and it is not enough,’ no matter how many times people told me the opposite.

I became a demon of the ugliest kind that kept destroying story after story, cutting the jugular vein of my dream.

But as a Scorpio, I am stubborn as hell and I do not give up easily.

I saw other writers that I knew started working on their novels around the same time I did, publishing their debut novels and I honestly was so happy about their achievement. But on the back of my mind, I also understood that my own novel did not progress much in compare with theirs.

Yet, comparing myself to others stopped being my hobby a long time ago and so, as a natural questioner, I asked myself.

What did happen to you?

Why the first novels you wrote when you were only sixteen and did not speak English that well at all, are way better than what you produce now? Why your early works have soul and your current ones do not?

Why before you could easily write 5k words a day and now 5 hundred words felt like climbing Everest without gears?

And if before writing was the source of my joy and inspiration, why now the process was so draining and upsetting?

But who asks the questions, gets the answers and I got mine!

I forgot why I became a writer in the first place

For ten years of writing novel after novel and never publishing anything because as a writer I could think only about writing and the mere word marketing made me want to crawl back in my shell and just never leave there, joining writing community made me realize that just wiring a novel is not enough.

That first draft is just a tiny drop in the ocean of other things an author must do in order to bring their work to the market.

Editing.

Pitching.

A bit more of editing.

Book covers.

Blurbs.

Pitching again.

Marketing.

Branding.

Tons of rejections.

And so much more that the matrix in my head just got broken.

I suck at marketing and editing my own work, at least for me, is equal to tearing myself limb after limb till nothing is left.

So I could not focus on writing anymore.

Each time I wrote a word I started criticizing it, hating it, replacing it, getting angry because it still did not for me, and ending up with a headache and self-hate.

Hello nuthouse!

So instead of writing my stories, I thought about marketing, editing, and branding beforehand. But my muse does not care about those stuff and so, tired of this self-sabotage, it slowly turned away from me and writing turned into hell.

But why I became a writer in the first place?

I became a writer because I love to create worlds and tell the real stories about imaginary people (aka my characters).

I started this path because it was the only thing that I have passion for.

Because my stories matter to me.

Because I care what happens to every character that pops up in my head.

Because I love writing.

Because it is the only thing that I know I will be doing for the rest of my life.

I did not start it because I wanted to get published as soon as possible.

I did not start it because I wanted to market something.

And I did not start it to write a novel everyone would love.

So, when I realized that I almost forgot why I became a writer in the first place, I decided to rewire myself and start my Wattpad project.

Because I want to be a writer and I have a pile of drafts and stories to share and what can be a better place for someone like me to starts sharing and connecting to people who will understand and share interest to the worlds I create than Wattpad?!

Yes, I do it for free.

Yes, just a few people showed an interest in my work so far (thank you guys!)

So what?!